Promises of Peace
by MMYZ
Summary: The dwarves have fled from Erebor, and found that they have no place in Middle Earth. Thorin struggles with the mantle of leadership and helping to raise his sister's sons. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

"There is nothing for us here. No gold, no silver, no halls of stone. Nothing." I paced. It was five steps from wall to wall, and poor walls they were.

"Thorin." Dis reached for my shoulder. Her lips were pressed thin, near as thin as she had grown in the past few months.

"No! Don't dare to 'Thorin' me." I turned on her. "Our people are starving. They look to me to lead them, and I cannot even find enough food." I pushed her hand away and leveled my gaze at her.

My sister glared back with the same look that, no doubt, I held in my own eyes. "That is of no fault of your own. Have you not worked through the night more oft than not? Have you not pleaded with the leaders in the village for aid."

My jaw tightened until it ached. "How far has the line of Durin to fall? Must I lay at the boots of _men_ and beg for scraps from their tables. No, Dis. I would rather starve than beg."

She looked away, then, her eyes falling to the swell of her stomach. "If I only had to think of myself, I would agree. But we cannot just think of ourselves." She was pleading now, reaching out to me again. "Think of the children. We cannot lose any more of the little ones. Not after last year. Even…even Fíli struggled last winter." She pressed her lips together again, but could not keep the grief from her eyes.

"Dis." I took her raised hand. "I spoke out of turn." I pulled her onto the wooden bench, which also served as a bed for Fíli. "Will you forgive me?" The last winter had been hard, harder even than this one. Three dwarven children had caught the forge cough, and without enough to eat they hadn't had the strength to outlast the sickness. It had almost taken little Fíli, as well.

Dis was silent for a long moment. I almost thought that my question would go unanswered, but then she spoke.

"Perhaps it is time to look elsewhere for good will." She brushed a hand at her eyes, even though no tears had fallen. It was a habit from more innocent days. "The old mines in the north."

"No. There is naught but more pain in that path." I felt the need to recoil at the suggestion, but forced my hand to remain in my sister's grip. "There is nothing of worth in those mines."

"I know they are smaller than you could hope for, but there are stories of the wealth of Ered Luin." She covered my hand with both of hers, as near to begging as she even was. "Perhaps there is some hope there?"

I frowned, "Those mines were abandoned long ago. The is no telling what could be living in them now." I ran my thumb over the back of her hand, a poor attempt to give her some comfort. "And the shafts would need repairing, the work of men does not last for long."

"So you will go then?" She leaned closer, for once looking like the young dwarrowdam that she was. "You will go to Ered Luin?"

I gently untangled my fingers from hers, hearing the sound of boots on hard snow. "I will speak to Balin. I cannot make any promises."

"Stay for supper, then. Fróri will not mind." She stood and straightened the ragged hem of her skirts.

I collected my cloak from the peg near the fire, "No, I have overstayed my welcome already. Give Fíli my greeting, once he wakes."

Fróri was scraping the snow off his boots just on the other side of the door.

"Thorin." He nodded respectfully, and seemed in good cheer. "Had my dear wife been filling your head with tales of Ered Luin as well?"

I paused on the doorstep for a moment, "She has. It seems that she would have us face our deaths for the sake of a warm bed and a full table."

Fróri laughed, tossing back his head. "The mighty Thorin Oakenshield, afraid of a march through the snow."

I could not help but smile, and clapped the dwarf on the shoulder, "I do not care for wet socks, my friend. Better to be hungry than have cold toes."

He chuckled, but when our eyes met again I could see understanding in them. He would follow me across oceans if it meant safety for his family. "To Ered Luin, then? It may be spring by the time we reach the old mines. Certainly if we bring Balin, he walks like a lame duck."

We shared another laugh before parting ways. The trudge through the snow, down the half-cleared path, was more somber after talking with the light-hearted young dwarf. The chill all the more biting. The track ended at the edge of the settlement. The palisade was made of the straightest trees that Bifur and his team had been able to find. It was well built. Well enough that most of the shacks used it as a wall. The forge was no different. It was little more than a glorified tent, backing up against the wall of the town on two sides. The door hung crooked, the log walls had warped in the cold.

Heat spilled into the darkness, as well as light, through the cracks in the walls. The sound of hammers on anvils and bellows pumping was soothing. I forced the door open, and bent my head to the warmth. It was no easy task to reach my fire. The most recent order, one of farm equipment, and stored wherever there was space. Twice, I nearly burn myself against hot metal as one of my people spun in the dace that was forging. But none touched me.

"About time, laddie. We thought you'd left us to get a pint with that lay about brother'a yours." Dwalin tossed me a hammer, pausing only to wipe the sweat off his brow before returning to the anvil.

I took the offered space and hammer, and began to shape yet another plow blade. "Fróri has a family to worry over, Dwalin. If it were his choice he would be here."

The warrior twisted the blade, presenting the other side for working. "Ay, but it stings a bit when we haven't had a spot of rest for weeks."

I allowed his words to hang in the air while we worked. I had promised to hold my decision until I spoke with Balin, but it appeared that our need was more dire than I had assumed. There was usually some talk in the forge, idle complaints and gossip about the price of iron. There was none of that today, only bowed heads and panting breath. Hammer blows were beginning to grow clumsy.

The plow blade was nearly finished when one of the smiths cried out. I was unable to move, gripping the glowing metal blade with a pair of tongs. Dwalin struck once more before he turned, hammer falling slack in his hand. The dwarf had stopped screaming, and by the time I had quenched the iron and turned he had lapsed into short, pained breaths.

The forge was unnaturally quiet. All work had ceased, like the second after the lightning strike and before the thunder. I felt eyes begin to find me, searching for answers that I did not posses.

I leapt over a stack of horse shoes, and dodged around a young dwarrowdam who stood with her hammer still raised, and forgotten. The smith was clutching at his arm, hunched over the fire without heed for the intense heat of the flames. I took his shoulder and pulled him away, toward the door.

"What happened?" I swallowed the panic that I felt, and did my best to keep my voice calm.

The smith sank onto a stack of iron blocks. His beard obscured his injury, and I found myself imagining the worst. Perhaps he had lost fingers, or worse yet, his entire hand. If the metal he had been working was hot enough, there would be no blood.

"My…" He took a shaking breath, looking up. His eyes were unnaturally bright in his sooty pace, "I missed my stroke." He extended his hand carefully. "I think I may have crushed my hand."

I took his wrist gently, and tore a strip of the already ragged hem of my tunic. I was not Oin, and there was little that I could do. I had seen other dwarves crush their hands, though, and had watched the binding process more than once.

"It does not look especially serious." The appendage was already swollen and discolored, but it did not appear to be badly broken. "Once I've finished, go find Oin. He can do more for you than I can." I tugged the strap tighter, and the smith hissed in pain.

"Thank you, my lord." He gripped my forearm with his good hand, and allowed me to help him to his feet.

I shook my head, "My father is the king, not me." I gestured to another of the workers, one who was still idle with shock, "Help this man find Oin. Do not leave his side."

The pair made their way out of the forge and into the night. I turned back, loathe to leave the relative cool near the door, and found that many of the smiths' eyes were still on me. I paused, searching immediately for Dwalin. He gave an encouraging nod, and a smile.

"It is time that we rest." I forced away the desire the shift my feet and fidget my hands, it was not becoming of the line of Durin. "Return here before noon tomorrow."

There were no cheers at my announcement. If I had been my father, I may have been able to improve their moods, but I was not. All I could do was keep them alive. For today, for tomorrow, until next summer, for as long as it took to reclaim our homeland. That was my task.

If the few moments that I spent lost in my musing, the forge emptied. Each smith had taken care to bank their fires and store their tools, but nothing else. Only Dwalin stayed, and even he looked weary.

"They needed that, laddie." He finished banking our fire, and together we checked the rest to make sure nothing would flare back to life while the forge was unattended. The year before we had lost nearly a month's work because of a fire in the night, and several sleeping families had nearly been injured.

"They need more than a half a day of rest." I stacked a pair of fallen horseshoes back on a pile, running my fingers over the smooth surface. "Dis thinks we should go to Ered Luin."

Dwalin was silent for a moment. "Are there mines there?"

I sighed, sinking onto a crate of scraps. "Once there were. They were made by men, long ago. It is unlikely that they have survived for this long."

Dwalin moved to stand before me, "And if they have, they will not be empty." He sank to his haunches, looking into my eyes. "It will be a hard trek either way. In the middle of winter, too."

I ran my fingers through my hair, "I know, but we are not left with much of a choice."

"Thorin, we can last until spring. There isn't…"

"Our stores are run nearly dry. Only the strong will outlast the winter."

"Better some than lose them all. A journey like that is no better than a death march. Their spirits are already broken, laddie, they cannot move again without hope for a better life."

I rested my head on my hands. There was no choice that was better than any other. My people would die either way. Not for the first time, I wished that my father had not disappeared. He would have an answer. He would take me aside, and explain in his rough voice what each decision would cost. Then I would give the answer that I thought best, as I had a hundred times before, and he would tell me if I was wrong. But my father was not here.

"What's going on here?" Balin's voice cut through my thoughts. "I thought all the smiths were sent home." There was a faint amusement in his voice.

Dwalin had sunk to the floor, and crossed his arms over his knees. "We're thinking."

"You're thinking, brother? I think not." The short dwarf patted my arm, "But you, Thorin, you think to much." He waved his hands at me, urging me to move to the side. I shifted to give him space, and he sat gingerly on the scraps. "Where are your thoughts, on this fine night, Thorin Oakenshield."

I pulled my fingers from my hair, and attempted to rub some of the soot from my face. "Our people cannot stay here. We are starving."

Balin and Dwalin shared a glance, "Our people have been hungry since Erebor. Another few months will not likely kill them."

"You do not understand." I straightened abruptly, finding my feet. "Our stores of grain have all but run out. The autumn harvest was not large enough to provide enough, even for a mild winter, and out hunters have been coming home empty handed more oft than not." I attempted not to shout, but could not keep the frustration from my voice. "We will not last the winter if we stay here!"

This time, the glance that Balin and Dwalin shared was of a different sort. They had not known the depth of our trouble.

"What do you plan to do, then?" Balin asked, making settling motions with his hands.

I paced, down the aisle and back toward the door. "If most of our people can wait, until the farmers come with coin, they should be able to buy enough supplies for the journey. The hunters may have had luck by then, as well. I can take a group of scouts, of warriors, to Ered Luin to clear the mines."

"Ered Luin?" Balin looked to his brother, "It will be a long journey in this weather."

Dwalin surprised my with his next comment. "If not now, then when, brother? Our people will be unwilling if we wait much longer. There is naught for them here, not even graves."

Balin thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Very well. I assume that I will be staying behind."

I forced a smile, "Someone must lead, while the king is away."

**A/N Thanks for reading! This is pretty hot-off-the-press, so let me know if there are any glaring mistakes. I am planning for this to be a multiple chapter story, but I may not update frequently. Reviews are always helpful!**


	2. Chapter 2

I pressed my fingers against my temples. Out of all my duties, these meetings were by far the most…irritating. Balin and I had presented our plan—we had spent the better part of the night drafting a true plan, rather than the scattered chain of ideas that I had managed to come up with on my own—and the rest of the elder dwarves were less than pleased. I had been able to anticipate some few of their complaints, but most I had not thought of.

"And what shall we do with the children? This…trek of yours will be quite difficult for them."

I attempted to focus through the haze of pipe smoke and exhaustion. It would not be wise to show weakness in front of these dwarves. I had hope that my…victory, tragic though it was, at the gates of Moria would have swayed them in my favor. Apparently not.

"We have enough livestock that they could ride on sledges." I did not sigh, though I wished to.

"And you would risk their lives for this adventure of yours? Haven't you lost enough family already?" The dwarrowdam who spoke was wrinkled with age. She hunched over the table, her appearance similar to that of a vulture.

I dropped my hands to the table and straightened in my seat. Before I could defend myself, Balin spoke.

"Leave the lad's brother out of this. Is was not his fault that Frerin died at Azanulbizar. Neither was it his fault that you lost your grandson." Balin's voice began to rise, and I reached out to try to pull him back into his seat. "No, Thorin." He pushed my hand away. "Leave your prejudices behind to see what this man has done for us. He led when no one else would. He has brought us peace! Now let him bring us prosperity."

We all stared at the gray-haired warrior. Then one of the elders spoke. Though as hunched and wrinkled as the others, he retained a spark of fire in his eyes. The smoke that clouded the air flowed in a nearly steady stream from his pipe.

"I believe that the boy is right. If we do not leave now, we will never leave."

"None of us will survive a journey in the heart of winter!" A fist pounded the table. "Last time we moved was spring, and _you_ nearly died then."

"Maybe Mahal wants us to pass leadership to this generation." The dwarf indicated me with his pipe. "In this one, I can see a future king. If he is not, in fact, our king now."

I bowed my head in deference to his comment, although it was undeserved. My father was the king, even if he was missing. Even if he had been dead, I would have nothing to be king of. Except a small settlement of starving dwarves.

The elders muttered among themselves, staring first at Balin and then at me. It struck me as strange that I did not know their names. In the few years since the fall of Erebor, I had become familiar with most of the remaining dwarves, but the elders had kept their distance. None of them had been a part of the political system of my grandfather. None of them had any power before our lives began to fall apart.

"Very well." The vulture-like dwarrowdam nodded. Her eyes were glittering with something similar to malice. "You may take all those who are willing to Ered Luin, but you cannot force them to go. We will stay with those who remain, and wait for spring."

I nodded and stood, "Very well. But if no others will remain behind with you, then you must travel with the women and children. I will not leave any of my people to starve in this forsaken place."

Balin followed me out of the doors of the hut, and paused by my side when I leaned against the palisade. He said nothing when I dropped my head against the cool, splintered wood and breathed deeply of the cool winter air. Nor did he comment on the shaking of my hands. Instead, he laid a hand on my shoulder.

"That was well spoken, lad." He patted me, seeming content to wait until I had regained my composure.

A fraction of myself wanted Balin to leave, so that there would be no one to witness my weakness. But the older dwarf had known me since I was just a dwarfling, and had seen much worse than this failing. I ran my fingers over the rough-hewn logs of the wall, and focused on the splinters that threatened to pierce my skin, rather than the inevitable consequences of the order that I had given the elders.

The cold was what finally broke my thoughts. My nervous shaking gave way to shivers, and I pulled away from the wall. The street of the settlement was empty, as it usually was, and already the tracks of the morning's traffic were beginning to fill in with wind-blown snow. I was not dressed well for the weather, even though I was wearing my best winter clothes. There was a hole in the side of my coat that let the wind in, and I curled my arms around my sides.

"We had best begin preparations for the journey." I gripped Balin's forearm as he turned to leave, "Thank you, Balin, for your support."

To my surprise, the older dwarf's face split into a wide smile. "I didn't give much help, lad." Then he leaned in, so no one in the empty streets could possibly overhear him, "If you need aid in the future, all you have to do is ask. I will give what help I can." He patted my arm, once again, and trotted down the snow-covered street.

Dis gave me a worried look when I arrived, and insisted that I sit near the fire. I was warming my hands over the coals when Fíli scampered in. The boy had never liked me much, and he paused near the door to the bedroom. I held very still, and pretended to watch the sparks float up the chimney.

"What's wrong, little one?" Dis asked, catching sight of her son from where she was working in the kitchen.

The blond dwarfling disappeared back into the bedroom. I glanced up at Dis, who shrugged.

"He's always been shy around you."

I removed my boots, setting then carefully by the fire to dry, "He is frightened of me."

I heard Dis sigh, and she thumped the dough on the counter rather more forcefully than necessary. "He is shy around everyone but Fróri and myself."

"Shy enough to hide in your room wh…" I stopped speaking as the tiny dwarf in question reappeared.

Fíli stood in the doorway again, clutching the frame with one small hand. He stood, eyes wide, and watched me for several long seconds. Then he edged into the main room, dragging something behind him.

I expected the child to go to his mother, as he had every other time that I had visited. Instead, he approached me carefully. He paused on the threadbare rug, staring at my boots with his thumb in his mouth. Apparently, something about them urged him to approach me, because he crept closer.

I did my best to focus on the fire, rather than the little dwarf, in an attempt to keep from giving him a fright. Because of this, I did not notice how close Fíli had moved until he tugged at the hem of my sleeve.

"Eh." He removed his thumb from his mouth for just enough time to grunt, and heave the object in his other hand into my lap.

I turned, and for a moment I expected the dwarfling to scamper away, as was his habit. I found myself looking into his bright, happy eyes instead. I lifted the tiny wooden sword from my lap and examined it.

"Why have you given this to me, Fíli?" I kept my voice soft.

Fíli leaned against my leg, motioning for me to come closer. His free hand found its way around one of the braids in my hair. "For keeping safe." He nodded, intent, and pushed the sword farther into my hand with his wet fingers. Then he clambered into my lap, keeping one hand wound round my hair tightly.

I looked to my sister again, unable to keep the incredulous smile off my face. Her son tugged at the layers of clothing I wore, intrigued by the sooty fur lining of my coat.

Dis smiled back. "He just needed some time, Thorin. He seems to like you well enough now."

"Hold." Fíli pressed the sword into my palm, once again. "You go kill goblins now." His violent nod sent his hair into his face, and it took several seconds for him to find a way out of the golden mess.

I tucked the sword carefully into my belt, where it rested against the much more functional dagger that I wore. "Thank you, Fíli. I am sure that your blade will keep me safe."

"Yep." He looked up at me again, "You an' papa." And without any preamble he clambered off my knees and scampered to his mother.

Dis placed the child on the table, and continued her baking. Fíli stole a small piece of dough and began rolling it into a long tube.

"What are you doing, little one?" Dis did not seem worried that Fíli would hurt himself, even though he was perched on the edge of the table.

"Makin' a snake." The child examined the lumpy creation, and began to smooth it with careful fingers.

"Perhaps your uncle would like to make snakes with you?" Dis looked at me imploringly. "But not before he washes his hands."

"Can you pwease make snakes wit' me?" Fíli only glanced up for a moment.

And so it was that I spent the afternoon making a veritable hoard of tiny serpents with the little dwarf. Fíli was surprisingly concerned with the realism of our creations. He was berating me, almost harshly, about the lumpiness of my snake's head when his father banged through the door.

"Where do eyes go! Eyes can't go on lumpy head!" Fíli dragged my hands back to the head of the dough creation, insisting that I make the head look like a head. He seemed to be tireless when it came to the little snakes. I had not expected him to be interested in the project for long, but we had used nearly all the dough.

"Alright, Fíli. I will fix it." I had just begun reshaping the head, this time into the correct diamond shape, when the door opened.

Fíli glanced up, at first merely curious. Dis had stepped out earlier for some reason, which she had mumbled under her breath with a grin on her face. Instead, Fróri stepped through the door. He had to duck slightly, as the frame was not quite tall enough.

"Papa!" Fíli shrieked. He leapt from the table without a single second of hesitation.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I lunged for the little dwarf. My fingers caught the back of his too-large shirt, and slowed his fall. Headless of the danger of his action, the boy slipped the shirt over his head and raced toward his father.

"Fíli." Fróri knelt down, looking up at me and laughing. "I think you've nearly killed your uncle with fright." His laughter was deep and robust, as it had always been. Not matter how dire our position, Fróri could always find something to laugh about.

Fíli looked at me over his bare shoulder, frowning. "He still alive."

Fróri ruffled his son's hair, and set the boy down, "Go fetch your shirt before you catch cold." He caught the boy's arm as Fíli turned. "And don't let me catch you leaping off tables again."

"You won't catch me, papa." Fíli beamed up at his father, and then pulled his shirt back over his head.

Fróri straightened and turned his smile toward me, "You have to see this, Thorin. It looks like our luck has finally turned around."

I followed the dwarf outside, and found Fíli clutching the hem of my tunic. Fróri's band of hunters, the ones who had been having such poor luck all winter, were gathered in the midst of a crowd of milling dwarves. The sound of talk and tramping feet and…laughter flowed up from the group.

"Come, come and see." Fróri lifted his son onto his shoulder, and nearly dragged me into the center of the gathering.

The hunters had managed to catch braces of fish, though all the streams and the nearby lake had been frozen over for months. Enough fish for the whole settlement, and then some.

"What? How?" I stuttered over my questions. "Where did this come from?"

Fróri beamed, "This isn't the best, Thorin." He pointed to the hunters, standing just behind the piles of fish. "I came back last night to get ponies so we could carry all this back. Nori and his boys spent all week tracking a herd of deer."

True to his word, the hunters were standing around a huddle of ponies. Each beast had a deer slung over its haunches. To my count, there were nearly a dozen.

"Did you leave any game for anyone else?" I laughed, slapping my sister's husband on the back.

Fróri joined in, "I think the men have been well fed enough, and there's plenty more where this came from." He toed one of the fish, "Though we'll be tired of them soon enough, I think."

"How did you manage to catch them?" I lifted one of the fish, surprised at the length and weight of the creature. It had already been cleaned and gutted, as well.

Fróri grabbed Fíli's legs as the boy attempted to climb down from his shoulders. "Someplace on the river must have unfrozen, because it's teaming with them. As soon as you cut the ice, they practically leap out of the hole at you." He spun his son to the ground, and caught the collar of his shirt before he had a chance to run off.

"You cut the ice?" I imagined the amount of work that the hunters must have done, just for the chance of catching a few fish.

Fróri shrugged, "I was tired of seeing people go hungry. Especially when the men in the village don't seem to be starving. I knew there had to be something to eat somewhere close by, and we'd checked everywhere else."

We both watched as Fíli examined one of the fish, engrossed by the play of the sunlight on its scales.

"Well, I believe we have a cause to celebrate then." I thumped him on the shoulder again, and raised my voice. "Gloin, please fetch the ale. Give these people something to drink." Surprised cheers followed my announcement, and the red-haired dwarf rushed off with a half a dozen others to collect the last of the summer's ale.

"Óin, can you gather some firewood? Let's cook one of these deer tonight."

In minutes, the streets were filled with celebrating dwarves. Bonfires crackled and sent sparks shooting into the sky, and the few dwarflings that were still with us raced between legs and caused mischief.

Dis caught Fróri and I before we had managed to consume too much ale, and frowned rather severely. "Do you know where I found our son?" She demanded of her husband.

Fróri shrank away. "I swear, he was just here Dis. I…he was with someone's mother I think."

Fíli took that moment to stick his head around his mother's skirts, and I couldn't help laughing. As soon as Dis fixed her gaze on me I managed to turn the sound into a cough. The little dwarf was covered, head to foot, in forge ash. Even his golden hair had been smeared with the black soot.

"You think this is funny, do you Thorin." She turned on me, advancing with surprising speed—especially considering how very pregnant she was. "Perhaps you would like to wash him, then."

I stumbled away, my footing unsure from ale and the rutted snow in the road. "I, no I didn't think it was funny." I looked around for someone to save me from my sister's wrath, but everyone was concentrating on their own merrymaking. "Dwalin!" My voice caught, rather embarrassingly, as I called for my friend.

The large dwarf turned, distracted from his conversation with his brother. "What, laddie?"

Seeing that she was outnumbered, my sister turned her wrath back to her husband. She managed to give me one last glare before she did so. Then she dragged her wayward son and Fróri toward their hut, both by the ear.

Dwalin watched them go with a knowing expression. "Were you supposed to be watching the lad?"

"No. I would never be so irresponsible as to let him play near the forges." I pointedly ignored Dwalin's raised eyebrow. "Where did Gloin go? I think I need more ale after that."

Dwalin was quick to lead me to the barrels, but we never reached them. On the way, a drink was pressed into my hand by Bifur, who congratulated my on convincing the elders to allow a journey to Ered Luin, and pledged his service to the expedition.

I accepted the ale, and made polite conversation until I was finished. By that time, Nori had appeared with another mug, and the same request as Bifur. By the time the smell of roasting meat infused the air, I had the support of the best warriors in the settlement.

"No, no, everyone knows that Dwalin's father was a troll, not an orc." I had an arm draped around the dwarf's shoulders, though I was not leaning on him. It was a show of moral support, since the rest of the group was intent on proving that he was at least part orc. How else would he have gotten so big?

"Aye, but what does that make you? You're a sight taller than I am, Thorin." Dwalin had gone red in the face, though that might have been from the drink.

"I." I waved a hand at him, and if I stumbled it was because the ground was rutted. "Am from the line," I paused to take a drink, "of Durin. And he was a very, very tall dwarf." I attempted to take another drink, but found my mug was missing.

"I think you've had enough, lad." Balin had appeared from nowhere, and was holding my drink captive. "Has he had anything to eat, brother?"

Dwalin caught my wrist at I tried to pull away, keeping my arm over his shoulders, "We haven't had the chance. All these well wishers and the like."

"Come on, laddie, let's get you some food." Balin made way through the crowd of revelers, who all seemed to be swaying slightly.

"Thorin!" Dwalin hissed, surprisingly close to me ear.

"What?" I was watching a particularly pretty dwarf maiden, and wondering if she would be opposed to…

"You keep steppin' on my foot." Dwalin dragged me away from the maiden, who had been returning my look with a solicitous expression.

I attempted to pull my arm away from the older dwarf. "I was a bit distracted." I gestured toward. Now there was a whole group of attractive dwarf maidens. "Look."

Dwalin stopped midstride, "I see." He glanced around. "Balin won't miss us."

I grinned, and straightened. Dwalin allowed me to retake my arm. If we were leaning against each other, it was because of the press of people around us.

"Ladies." Dwalin gave me a small push. "Have ya met the prince, Thorin Oakenshield?"

I stumbled against the maiden who had first caught my eye. "My apologies, my lady." I hauled myself upright, and took a step backward to regain my balance. "But your beauty seems to pull my toward you, with a power that I cannot resist."

Dwalin stood at my shoulder, and began conversing with one of the other ladies.

"My lord, you flatter me." My maiden blushed a pretty pink, and looked into her mug.

"Dwalin! Thorin!" Balin caught me by the back of my tunic, before I could say another word, and dragged the pair of us away.

I staggered after the shorter dwarf, and suddenly noticed how violently the world was swaying.

"Balin." I attempted to get his attention.

Dwalin saved me, locking his feet into the snow and catching me around the middle. "Why don't you sit down for a minute, laddie? You look a bit pale."

I slumped to the ground, sliding down the side of one of the huts. "I think I may be drunk." And then I frowned. "But I didn't drink as much as that."

Balin's face swam in front of me. "This is the first time he's been without his father to restrain him, isn't it?"

"I don't need restraining!" I protested, "I am old enough to…"

"I think so, brother." Dwalin cut me off, easing down the wall to sit net to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

I shivered a little, and let my head fall back against the wall. If I closed my eyes, the spinning was much more manageable. I would just rest for a minute, no one would mind.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you see any mistakes. I am planning on updating about once a week, but I'll let you know if I change my mind. Please leave a review, if you like! **

**Also, thank you to QueenOfTheRing for her review.**


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days melted into nothing. I spent my days in the forge, working to finish the order of farm equipment. The work was hard and hot and unfulfilling, but no more so than usual. I spent my evenings—and usually far into the night—finishing preparations for the journey to Ered Luin.

"No, lad, you're going to need more provisions than that." Balin was looking at the charts over my shoulder, "Warriors on the march need to eat."

I tossed the quill aside. "We don't have more. I am already taking all that we can spare."

"The rest of us will go hungry, if need be." Balin laid a hand on my shoulder, and picked up the quill. He dabbed at the nib gingerly, checking if it was broken.

"Fróri is coming with me. We can take this," I gestured at the page, "and catch game as we go. I have heard that winters are not so harsh in the Shire. There should be something to hunt there."

"And if there is not?" Balin pulled the page toward himself, pen poised.

I sighed, "Than it is better that we go hungry than you. At least the warriors are already strong. A few weeks of short rations will not kill them."

Balin watched me gravely, but made no argument against my logic. "Very well then."

I pulled the next stack of papers toward myself, and began to read through them. They were orders of the council of elders, listing what should be done once my party reached the Blue Mountains. Pages of them. As I read, the words began to blur together.

_Once said mine shafts have been cleared, or reinforced if need be, housing should be constructed for the arrival of the main party of dwarves. Upon inspection, it has been determined that no less than three hundred and twenty five dwellings are required. Dwellings should have the dimensions of: _

_Upon inspection, it has been determined that no less than three hundred and twenty five dwellings are required. Dwellings should have the dimensions of: _

I rested my head on my hand, and leaned closer to the paper.

_Upon inspection, it has been determined that no less than three hundred and twenty five dwellings are required. Dwellings should have the dimensions of: _

"Thorin."

"Wake up, laddie." A rough hand shook me, and I jerked upright.

"What?" I looked around, confused. This was not my room. This was not my table.

Dwalin spoke again, "Dis wants to see you, before we leave. She says it's urgent."

The table was Balin's. I recognized the stab mark where I had lost my temper, just after we had settled here.

"Are we leaving today?" I had not realized that my time here was so short. I had thought that there were at least of few days left.

"Aye, laddie. Before noon, if we are to follow your direction."

I bolted out of the chair, "I need to collect my things, then, and finish that last shovel in the forges."

Dwalin watched my panic with a twinkle in his eye, "Already taken care of." He waved a hand at the packs by the door, hung with my cloak and sword and shield.

I clapped him on the shoulder, "Thank you, my friend. I'll find you at the stables?"

"Where else would I be?" He sounded amused, but I could spare him no passing glance.

I slung the pack over my shoulders, and very nearly ran to Dis' house. She was sitting on the stoop, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. It appeared that the bitter cold of the past month had finally left us, and there could have been no better moment.

"Thorin, I was beginning to think that you wouldn't be coming." She looked up from her sewing, and smiled a little sadly.

I dropped my pack on the step, "I would never leave without of goodbye, little sister."

She stood, arms open, and I allowed the hug. When I tried to back away, she gripped me all the tighter.

"Promise that you'll be careful." She whispered into my shoulder. "Promise that you'll be happy and hale when I come."

I brushed her hair away from her face, "I promise."

"Promise that you will keep Fróri from acting rashly?" She looked up, eyes shining with repressed tears.

"I shall do my best." I took her hand and grasped it for a moment. "I will not let anything happen to your family."

Dis nodded, "Then safe travels."

I stepped away, and hesitated. "Do you think this is the right course?"

My sister toyed with the sock she had been mending. "I think you must trust yourself."

"But what if I am wrong? What if I am leading us to our deaths?"

Dis took my forearm, holding it in the warrior's grip. "You are the king now, Thorin, and these people would follow you gladly. It does not matter if it is to peace or to death."

"I am not worthy of their trust." I turned away from her eyes, so similar to the eyes of our brother. He had trusted me, once, and I had led him astray.

"You are not a child, Thorin, not anymore. And they think that you are worthy." She tightened her grip, forcing me to look back at her. "Neither of us have the luxury of being children anymore. I am a mother, and you are the leader of these people. We cannot waste energy thinking of ourselves."

I swallowed, and wished that we were not in such a public place. I lowered my head, "I do not want this burden."

Dis rested her hand no my cheek, "I would help you, if you would only ask. But there is no time for that now." She lifted my pack, pressing the straps into my hand. "Remember your promises, and trust that better times are ahead."

I rested my forehead against hers, for the longest moment that I could spare, and then turned away. I pretended not to see the tears on her cheeks, and she made no comment on the tremors in my hands. By the time I had reached the stables, I had pressed the swirling of guilt and fear away, to reside with the others in some far reach of my mind.

It was not custom for families to say goodbye to departing warriors. My little group, perhaps a hundred, huddled together under a gray sky in the empty streets. The ponies were loaded, hung with weapons and dried fish and what little else could be spared. It looked more like a mummer's troupe than a war party, with the patched clothes and battered armor.

I took the reins of one of the ponies from Dwalin, and nodded to the group behind. "To Ered Luin, then?"

Dwalin nodded, slapped my pony on the rump, and we started down the rutted road.

**A/N Sorry about the length of this chapter. There was no other place to split it, so it's pretty short. **

**Thank you to: sorrellkaren and cigar161 for their reviews. I've been trying to stay away from the sort of happily ever after kind of ending. I also don't want to get to angsty, so let me know if you feel like the story is drifting in that direction. **

**Thank you to all my readers as well! Please take a second to review, or critique the story if you want. **


	4. Chapter 4

I stood behind the inn and hammered at the old, bent pot. There was no proper forge—and no campfire could be built hot enough to soften iron—so I reshaped the metal with force alone. Snow floated down in the soft wind. Had it not been so cold, I might have thought the sight beautiful. My fingers were stiff, but there was little that I could do about that. It had been a long while since I had been able to wear dry gloves.

Dwalin stomped past, a fresh milled beam balanced on his shoulder. He lead a team of craftsmen, hammering industriously at the frame of a small cottage. The building had been no more than a skeleton when we had arrived. Work had come to a standstill because of the harsh, snowy weather. That mattered little enough, though. In the years since we had fled Erebor, my people had worked in every sort of acclimate weather possible.

The innkeeper had promised a hot meal, seeing as we were willing to work for it. Five years ago I would not have taken his offer, but the once noble people of the Lonely Mountain had been brought low by poverty and hunger long ago. It was not so hard to give a day of labor for a hot meal and a change to sit inside by a fire. My men were losing their spirits, after so many weeks of marching through snow-covered fields and forests.

I gave the pot a looking over, and ran my fingers over the inside. I would have asked the innkeep how he'd managed to put such a bent in hard iron, if I had thought that he would give me a straight answer. I could do no more without proper tools. At least the pot would sit well on its bottom now.

Dwalin's workers had finished with the frame of the house, setting the beam in its proper place at the crest of the roof. Fróri was just finishing setting nails as I glanced up. The rest of my warriors loitered in the courtyard, huddled against the walls of the stables or the inn to keep out of the worst of the wind. They seemed to have finished their work—cleaning the stables and shoveling the snow from the yard.

I brought the pot to the back door, and knocked. It took a long moment for the innkeeper to answer, though the inn did not seem overly busy. I could not hear the usual sounds of chatter and music, at least. I handed to pot up to him, and watched as he eyed my work critically.

"Your people do good work." He mumbled around the stem of his pipe. "'s been years since I've seen so many dwarves on the road."

The man had not asked many questions when we had arrived. He seemed more at his ease now, seeing as all the work was finished.

I declined him the answer that he was looking for, "We're visiting relatives," I squared my shoulders, "we would like to spend the evening out of the cold, as you promised."

He waved a had, "Ah, the missus just finished with the stew. She'll be coming out in a moment." He raised a bushy eyebrow. "You boys don't mind eatin' outside?" He waved a hand nonchalantly, "The people here, they get mighty upset 'bout strangers sometimes."

I bristled at the insult. "My people would like to warm themselves by a fire, master innkeep. It was part of our deal."

The man shrugged, "No space inside for you lot." His face lost the shroud of amiability, "If you want food, it'll be outside."

"Then we do not want your food." I stared at the man, hoping that he would change his mind. He simply shrugged, a small smirk making way onto his lips. "And we will not forget this insult, master innkeep. You have my promise on that."

As I turned, I knocked the pot out of his hands. The angle was such that it hit the step on the newly repaired bent, undoing my afternoon of work. I did not pause to offer an apology, but stalked into the courtyard and collected my men. We left the inn behind before night had truly fallen, breaking trail on the snow-covered road.

"It would have been nice to have something other than fish to eat." Fróri kicked at a chunk of ice in the middle of the road. "What did that man tell you, to make us leave so suddenly?" The blond dwarf fixed me with an amused look. "Did he, perhaps, insult your honor?"

"He refused to follow the terms of our agreement." I hunched my shoulders against the wind, tucking my hands under my arms. I was in no mood for the older dwarf's japes. This was not the first time that my people had been taken advantage of. No doubt, it would not be the last. If I had been a better leader, we would not have to beg for hot meals or the coins from the bottoms of people's purses. It seemed that every choice I made set us farther back.

"So he did insult your honor." Fróri laughed a bit, but it was a strained sound. We had not had proper beds or meals since we had left the settlement, near a month ago. The weather should have turned warm by this time of year, but winter seemed intent on lasting well into spring.

"He insulted more than my honor." I snapped, scowling. "He insulted your honor as well, and took advantage of our unpaid work."

Fróri frowned, the light leaving his face. He set his shoulders into the wind and look at his feet.

"I'm sorry, brother. I did not mean to be so harsh." I thought to reach out and touch his shoulder, but he did not seem to want any comfort from me.

He kicked at another chunk of ice, his frown deepening. "I know." He spared me a glance, though it was a short one, and brushed some of the ice from his beard. "I am as tired as you are of scrabbling in the dirt, only to be given the leavings of others. I wish that I could give a better life to your sister, and to our son. And the new little one. I do not want him live a life of being looked down upon."

Fróri did not mean the words as an insult, he was far too earnest for that, but they stung all the same. Here were the signs of my failings. Here was what my leadership had brought to my people. Poverty and misery and despair.

He looked up, squinting against the snowflakes. "Maybe Ered Luin is our answer. We can build a life there, a good life." He glanced sideways at me again. "A prosperous life."

I stamped through a particularly deep drift, trying to pack the snow as much as I could before the others reached it. "If my father were here, we wouldn't need rich mines and good soil. He would have led us to prosperity long ago."

Fróri shook his head, "You have lead us through hardships that no dwarf could have prospered in. Your father could not have done any better."

I gritted my teeth, pushing against the familiar pain in my chest. Fróri did not understand that I stumbled through the dark, and took the right paths only by chance. How much suffering could have been avoided if a true king had lead, instead of me? How much death could have been avoided?

"Thank you." I managed, after a moment. The words sounded forced even to my ears, and my friend gave me a quizzical look. At least some of his good humor had returned.

We marched on through the night, since there was no firewood or warm place to sleep. The men began to grumble without the usual amused tone. It had been a long time since we had had any of the comforts of home, and it was wearing on us all. Morning arrived, though it was hard to tell through the blizzard, and we took shelter in a stand of trees. We spent the morning huddled together in tents made of blankets, trying to warm our frozen fingers and toes without a fire.

My thought had been to sleep during the warmer part of the day, and continue in the colder part of the night, but the storm prevented any sort of rest.

"I think we should keep going, lad. The men are starting to get cold." Dwalin hunched over his own bare fingers, blowing on them.

Fróri laughed, "Starting to get cold? Where have you been for the last month, Dwalin? It's been nothing _but_ cold."

The bigger dwarf stared at the blond. It seemed to take him a minute to collect his thoughts. "I supposed you're right." He finally managed to mutter, bringing his fingers back to his mouth.

I stamped my feet and looked at the miserable faces, huddling in the makeshift tents. "We should try to get a fire going. Some hot food would do the men good."

"We haven't got much left to eat." Fróri gestured at the ponies, much less heavily laden than they had been, "And I doubt that anyone wants another meal of dried fish stew."

I frowned, "Dwalin, see if Gloin can light some of this wood. Fish stew is better than empty stomachs."

Fróri and I watched Dwalin stumble through the snow. "We won't have anything left, after this."

"If the Blue Mountains are more than a day away, we won't reach them anyway." I rubbed my hands together, "We have gone to long without food, and if this weather continues to hold even the strongest will not last long."

"Then we will feast." Fróri made an attempt at humor, but was to weary to do more than force a laugh.

I guided my fried toward the fire, which Gloin had managed to light despite the wind and the wet wood. He leaned against a tree and happily warmed his hands. Bifur and Bomber, the elder cousins of the family, started melting snow for water.

The wind had lessened by the time the stew was ready. I took my bowl, and absently noted that I had not gotten a single chunk of fish. Instead, there was some sort of mashed tuber floating on top of a greasy broth. I drank it anyway. It still tasted of fish, which was no comfort at all. I had grown to hate that taste as much as any of the men.

"Dwalin, come walk with me." I pulled my friend aside, just as he finished his own bowl. He did not seem to mind the monotony of eating fish for every meal, at least.

The snow was gentle enough now that we could spot landmarks, if we drew close enough to them. The Blue Mountains should be near enough to see, if we were taking the right path. As we walked, each with our own thoughts, we very literally stumbled upon our destination.

Dwalin and I had taken different paths around a patch of brambles—tenacious enough to stand tall despite the thick layer of snow on their branches—and I had become lost in my thoughts. I stepped on a hidden stone, and tumbled down a slope.

The hill was not so very steep, and I slowed my fall long before I reached the bottom.

"Thorin! Are you alright, lad?" Dwalin came crashing through the brambles, looking wild eyed.

I did not give him a response, since I was busy staring at the very obvious mine shaft, now clear of snow, that had appeared only a few inches from my boots. The beams were old and half rotten, but placed purposefully. Most alarming was the stench that poured out of the hole. It was an unmistakable smell. It was the foul odor of goblins.

"I think we have found the Blue Mountains." I inched my way up the hill, careful not to fall into the yawning pit.

Dwalin caught my arm and tugged me to safety, and we both lay in the snow and stared at the shaft.

"And I do not think that these mines are unoccupied."

"I think that you're right." Dwalin whispered, eyes very wide.

**A/N Thanks for reading! As always, please leave a review if you want. **

**Thank you to Rin-anne for your review. I've always been interested in the period before the quest to reclaim Erebor, and I'm glad you like it too. **


	5. Chapter 5

"How many do you think there are?" Fróri and I perched high in a tree, watching the goblin hole intently. Despite the distance to the mineshaft, Fróri kept his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

I shook my head, "I do not know. Dwalin and I did not enter the mine itself." We had raced back to camp, as quickly and quietly as possible, without going closer to the hole. Dwalin may be reckless, and I was not know to be overly cautious, but there were only two of us—and weaponless as well.

"They'll come out tonight, now that the storm is over." Fróri shifted above me, trying to find a more comfortable position in the branches.

Nearly the entire party was sheltering in the trees, having picketed the ponies farther away from the goblin stronghold. The last breath of the storm had covered our tracks and, hopefully, our scent. The tall pines were far enough away from the old mine to us to feel safe, even though dwarves were not accustomed to climbing trees.

"I hope they're quick about it." I pressed my shoulders harder into the trunk of the tree in an attempt to take the weight off my feet. I was not so comfortable that I could sprawl over the branch, like Fróri.

He chuckled under his breath and fiddled with his pipe. "They'll come when they're ready, and not a moment before." He glanced down slyly, "Though they'll wait until you're nice and uncomfortable first, I suspect."

I huffed, hoping that the my friend could not see my smile in the darkness, "No doubt."

We waited until the moon, only a sliver, had risen over the tops of the mountains. The goblins did not appear, even then.

"Maybe they've all died." I muttered, hopefully, "And we will just have to empty the mine of their corpses."

Fróri laughed, almost silently. "Perhaps you'll sprout wings, as well, and fly off into the sunrise after we're done."

"There's no need to be so pessimistic." I hissed.

Fróri rolled onto his stomach, the better to scowl at me. "If you are intent on being the optimist, I must fill your usual role. I'm simply being _realistic_, thank you very much."

"If you're any louder they'll hear you back at the settlement." I snapped back, a note of caution in my voice. There was no need to lure the goblins out with the sound of argument.

It was near midnight, and I was beginning to grow cold. I had long since adopted Fróri's more comfortable position, and was watching the stars move slowly across the sky.

"Thorin?" My friend's voice broke the quiet.

"Hmm." I could see his shadow, turning over on the branch again. The wood creaked, but to softly to be alarming.

There was a pause, for long enough that I turned my gaze back to the stars. "Do you remember when I first started courting your sister?"

I was unable to keep from snorting, and spent a hair-raising second watching for movement at the entrance of the mine. "I always knew that you were in love with her."

Fróri sighed, wistfully. "I was. She's lovely, even now after so much hardship. Ever since we were children, and she followed us into the treasury. Do you remember how angry you were with her?"

I smiled at the memory. We had been children, and strictly forbidden from entering a place with so many delicate, priceless things. Fróri and I had been plotting the expedition for nearly a month, memorizing the path and hiding our secret from Frerin.

"She was so pleased with herself, for realizing where we were going." I closed my eyes to better picture the scene. "She said that she was going to tell my father."

"And you clapped your hand over her mouth to keep her from shouting. And," Here Fróri paused to make sure I was listening, "and she bit you!" He exclaimed, still in a whisper. "I knew at that moment that she was the kind of woman that I could love. One that was not afraid of a princeling, even one so regal as you." He snickered to himself, amused that I could have even been thought of as regal.

"You were what, thirty, before they managed to comb all the sticks from your hair?"

"Twenty eight. I'm not so old as that." I flicked a small pinecone at his hanging arm, "And you were no better. Even after I was being groomed by Thrain, you were running about in the woods and the tunnels."

"I was collecting gifts to woo your sister, of course." He laughed in earnest this time, forgetting all about the threat of the goblins. Several of the nearby dwarves, Dwalin in particular, made shushing noises. We lay in silence of several long minutes, eyes fixed on the hole in the ground.

When no goblins appeared, Fróri continued. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something." There was an uncharacteristic hesitance in his voice.

"Anything, my brother." His suddenly somber mood was infectious.

"If I should die in the fighting, can you do something for me? Well, two things actually." He took a deep breath, and plunged ahead. "Will you take care of Dis and Fíli. And the other little one? If I…If I am no longer around, they will need a father."

"Fróri, there is no need for this. This is not Azanulbizar. You are not going to die."

He waved a hand, just a shadow in the night, "I know, I know. But just in case, can you promise me that we will watch over them? Can you treat them like you would your own?"

"You have my oath, though I doubt that I will ever need to do such a thing. You are a warrior in your own right, now. Only the fiercest battle could claim you."

Fróri did not answer, though he cleared his throat several times.

"My other request is much simpler, I think. If I die before we reclaim Erebor, do not burry me in a mountain tomb. I do not want to be stuck, after I die. Lay me to rest in the earth, among the trees, so that my spirit can watch over you wherever you go." He said this very calmly, as if he had spent much time thinking of his death.

"Of course." I would give him what he wanted. Fróri was some of the only family that I had left. If he wanted to be buried among the trees, than I would do that for him. I could only hope that his time did not come before mine. I did not want to lose another brother to war, not so soon after Frerin.

"Shut up, you two." Dwalin hissed from a tree over, "Can't you see that there are goblins about?"

Fróri and I immediately went silent. There were goblins, huddled just within the shadows of their hole. They crept out as we watched, squinting in the faint light of the moon. There were perhaps twenty of them, clad in steel and armed with the rough weapons of their kind. That meant that the force inside the mine was near a hundred, since they rarely sent more than a fifth of their number into the light at any given time.

The creature strolled under the trees, hissing in their course language and sniffing the air. They were moving in the opposite direction of our supplies, which was lucky, and soon disappeared from sight. Even more luckily, dawn was not far away, and the band soon returned. They carried the mangled carcasses of several large beasts, and slipped down the hole from whence they came.

I kept my company in the trees until full light, to avoid ambushes, and then we descended and began to strategize. Nearly every member of the party thought that it would be best to wait for nightfall and then lure the entire force into the open. Gloin proposed that we set fire to the mines, and force them out with the heat of the flames. Nori thought that it would be best to have a small force sneak in, while the goblins slept, and ambush them. Others shouted plans, each with smaller and smaller chances of success.

Eventually I sent Nori to look for another entrance to the mines, and asked Gloin how we would set fire to such a large area even though we had nothing that would burn.

"What if we just kept making noise, and waited for them here?" Fróri finally spoke up, with his usual grin firmly in place. "There's good cover for the archers, and enough space for you martial types. And they have to climb up that hill before they can get us, anyway."

There were surprised murmurs from the older warriors, who had been determined to overthink their plans.

"Fróri is right." I took my chance to restore order to the gathering, "If we start now, we can fortify positions and give ourselves the advantage."

Dwalin nodded, "Aye, the lads speak the truth. There are plenty of logs in these woods to make walls, and that patch of brambles it a good place for Nori's assassins."

After nearly half an hour of dithering, where Gloin protested that fire was most certainly the answer and a half dozen of the youngest warriors asked meaningless questions, we began to work. Fallen trees were dragged into the clearing and stacked on top of each other, creating a maze for the goblins to run through, and a tunnel was hacked out of the brambles so the dwarves could hide for an ambush.

Things were going well when Nori arrived, near noon. He had scouted for nearly a mile on all side of the pit, and found no other entrances. It seemed that the goblins had neglected to make an escape hole, an oversight that would cost them their lives.

By the time that the sun began to sink below the trees, the traps were set. Nori had been in position with his men for half and hour, and Fróri had taken the archers into the cover of the trees. I stood behind one of the log walls, checking my armor and weapons.

I had spilled my pack over the snow, to make sure that I was not missing anything important, and it was then that I would little Fíli's wooden sword. I had forgotten the gift, in the weeks before we had left the settlement. I did not remember packing it with my other supplies, though any number of other dwarves had gone through my packs before I had left. Perhaps Balin had been thoughtful enough to slip it into the bottom of my bag.

I packed my small possessions away again—my pipe and maps and the few coins that remained to me—but left the sword lying in the snow. It was not so very large. I did not even notice the weight even I slipped it through my belt, and it gave me a sense of comfort to have the child's toy nearby.

Not even Dwalin made comment when he saw the stick, he simply stepped aside to allow me the better position at the wall. It was there that we waited for the goblin hoards, for the night to fall. The shifting of swords and axes and hammers, and the rasp of shields against wood were loud in the springtime air. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind only a thin trace of light.

Dwalin began the song, his voice deep and rough in the darkness.

"The world was young, the mountains green,  
>No stain yet on the Moon was seen,<br>No words were laid on stream or stone,  
>When Durin woke and walked alone."<p>

Voices began to join him, singing a challenge to our foes. Long has the hate between the dwarf and the goblin run deep. The noble name of Durin was, to them, the lowest of curses.

"He named the nameless hills and dells;  
>He drank from yet untasted wells;<br>He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,"

The creature began to stir in their hole, chattering angrily in their own language. The first heads appeared, creeping darkly across the snow. I hoped that Fróri had the sense to wait before his first volley. Shots fired now would only frighten the goblins deeper into the mines. We wanted them to be enraged first.

"And saw a crown of stars appear,  
>As gems upon a silver thread,<br>Above the shadow of his head_._"

I shouted the words along with my kin, and brought my shield down against the wall in front of me in time with my words. The thud of the oaken branch against the old pine was hollow and strong. The goblins were screaming now, clattering their own weapons nervously. The first group began to scurry up the slope, out of the hole and onto the field that we had prepared.

There was a moment of perfect silence as we faced each other, as there was a the beginning of every battle. That single second seemed to hang for longer than its due, letting me see the streaks of blood and other unspeakable things on the goblins' skin. Showing the truth of our foe, just as they saw us through the cloud of their own hate. Then the moment crashed away, and the world was loud.

Our song broken, fragmenting as the younger warriors brought their focus to their weapons. I found that I had fallen silent, as well, though Dwalin continued the chant in a low rumble.

There was a twang of bowstrings, and dark blood sprayed into the air. Goblins stumbled and fell, tripping their fellows. One reached my section of wall, and I swung my sword at its head without thinking. I felt the impact of my blade against its skull, a vibration that shivered up my arm and into my shoulder, and the goblin tumbled to the ground. I raised my shield to catch a blow from a crude ax. I stumbled back a step as a hideously malformed creature made to grab my weapon. I lost myself to the fight.

Soon enough I grew weary. My arms ached from the weight of sword and shield. My leg throbbed where a poleax had slipped through my defense. The snow had grown slippery, melting with the heat of the fight and the constant spill of blood.

I fought still, my left shoulder pressed against Dwalin's right. We fought together, as we had practiced many times before. He would strike—with fists or ax, it did not matter—in such a way that our foe would stumble, or raise their weapon, or create some opening. Then we would rotate, and I would strike the killing blow.

We had left the cover of the wall behind us, and stood in the center of the field. I could see the occasional flash of one of Nori's fighters, slipping out of the brambles and disappearing into the shadows. Flocks of arrow shrieked through the air, deadly in the darkness. Goblins lay dead around my feet.

It seemed that the battle would go on forever, with streams of goblins creeping up the slope with every breath. Far more than we had expected, so many that our lines began to falter and fail. The first dwarves began to fall, in the darkest part of the night, and still we fought.

Nori's men leapt from the brambles, quick and quiet, and screams followed them out of the mineshaft. I stepped to the right, taking one of the creatures in the gut with a short stroke, and stepped to the right again. Dwalin let out a string of curses, and there was the sound of flesh striking flesh. I stepped to the right again, lifting my shield to catch a wild swing of a rusty sword.

Nori's companions reappeared over the lip of the hole, and vanished into the shadows. I stepped to the right again, and found the space empty. The field was empty. The night was filled with the moans of the injured and the heavy pants of those still standing. I allowed my shield to fall, searching for the next foe, the next threat. There was none.

Dwalin panted a few breaths, and clapped me on the shoulder with a bloody hand and a grin. "We did it, laddie."

I could only manage a nod, but forced myself to walk down the lines of battered logs and count the dead. Thirteen, fourteen, I was nearly at the end when Gloin caught my arm.

"Thorin." He gasped, pale, "Fróri, he's." The dwarf broke off, already turning and racing back into the woods.

I sprinted after him, my weariness and injuries forgotten, and found my friend laying at he base of a tree. At first he seemed to be fine, although pale. He was forcing a smile, pushing away the helping hands. But there was too much blood. It stained the ground around him red. Bright, deadly scarlet.

"Thorin." He rasped, letting his hands fall to his chest with a grimace.

"Someone fetch Óin. Go now." I shoved one of the men, hard enough that he stumbled.

Fróri shook his head weakly, "No. Leave Óin to tend to those who will survive."

I dropped to my knees next to him, and took his hand in my own. His fingers were pale and cold to the touch. His tunic—from the base of his ribs to his hips—was stained dark.

"You will survive." Even as I said the words, I felt my eyes burn. Already, the light was leaving Fróri's eyes.

The blond sank back against the roots. "Remember what you promised." He tried to focus on me, his breaths beginning to rasp deep in his chest.

"No. No." I shook my head, a child again watching my brother die. Watching my mother burn before my eyes. Watching my grandfather's head roll over and over. "You can't leave me."

His grip began to weaken, his fingers sliding in the back of my hand. I gripped him harder, trying to keep his focus. "Promise me."

"I promise." My voice shook.

He seemed to relax then, some of the pain leaving his face. "I…am frightened." He sucked another rattling breath. "I…don't." He struggled for words, eyes rolling from side to side. "Thorin!" He coughed, lips staining red. "I…can't…see."

I shook with sobs, keeping silent for the sake of my friend—my brother, in all but blood. I pulled the wooden sword from my belt, and pressed it into his hand. It had given me comfort, before the battle. Perhaps it would help him now.

"This belonged to your," I took a deep breath, and forced myself to continue. "to your son. He said that it would protect you." I kept his fingers folded around the hilt of the toy with my own.

"Fíli." It seemed to comfort him, the thought of his son. His head rolled back, and he heaved another wet breath. His eyes closed, then, though he continued the wheeze. I pulled him into my arms, cradling his head against my shoulder. My tears left clean trails of skin on his face.

I did not feel the life leave him. It may have been the only subtle thing that he had ever done. Sometime near dawn Dwalin knelt beside me, and pulled my hands from Fróri's shoulders. The body rolled into the snow, limp and bloody.

"Burry him here." I ordered, wiping my eyes. "He wanted to be buried under the trees." And I walked away.

**A/N As always, thank you for reading. I hope I can update regularly still, but I'm back in school so it's going to depend on how hard my classes are. Please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

Dis cried when she saw the grave. It was true spring, then, and the fresh grass had grown up over the sides of the mound. It seemed to grow best where blood had been spilled, like Mahal was pleased with the death of his people. The meadow was thick with flowers, around the crumbling remains of the walls we had built. Even the patch of brambles was vivid with the life of spring.

Someone had carved his name into the tree, burning it a deep black. My sister crouched and sobbed and ran her ringers over the runes. She had crumpled, as if I had struck her, her she saw the grave. It was not a surprise to her, we had sent news back to the families of all the fallen, but now his death was final. He was not going to leap out from between the trees, laughing like he had made some elaborate joke.

I wrapped my arms around Dis, and held her as she wept. Her tears were silent. They were the tears of someone hurt deeply and often. She had become good at crying, since Erebor, and accustomed to silence once her son was born.

"I am sorry." I managed to say, wishing that I had fallen instead of him. Because I was weak, and did not want to live with the suffering that surrounded me. Ered Luin was supposed to be the answer. It was supposed to lead my people out of the strife and heartache that we had been mired in for so many years. All it had brought was more grief.

Dis shook her head, burying her face in my dirty tunic. "You did your best." She stayed like that for a long while, until her tears dried. I brushed the last of them away with my thumb, and searched her eyes for any resentment. She watched me levelly, her gaze as cool and calm as mine.

I tilted my head back, and took a long breath of warm air. "Can I see the little one?" Dis' babe had been born on the road, in the same storm that had almost ended my expedition.

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, and took my arm. We walked out of the trees together, blinking in the bright sunlight of the meadow. In the two months since our arrival, we had managed to construct a shell of a town. The goblin tunnels had been collapsed, after we had discovered that there was little of worth in the small mine, and the pit had been filled in. The once bloody ground had been cleared—except for the tenacious patch of brambles—and converted to a courtyard. Wagons full of possessions filled the space, and the newly arrived women and children milled about excitedly.

Balin was perched on the back of one of the wagons, peering about with interest. Fíli sat beside him, kicking his legs and looking around with all the innocent joy of a child. In a basket between the two was a wiggling bundle.

"Thorin!" Fíli leapt recklessly off the wagon and flung himself against my legs. "Have you come to see my brother?" He smiled at me through a mane of wild blond hair, and I was reminded painfully a different face that had been so much the same.

"I have." I patted the boy's head, unsure of what I was supposed to do with him. Last time I had seen him, he had been shy and quiet. Now he was bursting with energy.

"Mama says that I must not let anything happen to him." Fíli frowned, scrunching his face in intense concentration. "Since Papa is not around, I am the one to protect the family."

I had not spoken to Dis about his wishes. There hadn't been time. I had been working in the new mines, where the rhythm of picks and hammers kept wayward thoughts at bay, when Bifur had come with the news of their arrival. That had been this morning.

"I'm sure you will take good care of your brother." I patted his head again.

"Thorin." Dis called, gently. She lifted the bundle out of the basket, and smiled. It was a true smile, not the shadow of one that she had given earlier. "Come and meet Kíli."

I approached, and looked upon the newest member of the line of Durin. A tuft of brown hair stood straight up on the boy's head, and was apparently his only significant feature. He waved his tiny hands in the air, and caught one of my fingers in a tight hold.

"He has his father's eyes." Dis smiled up at me, "Doesn't he?"

I nodded, detaching the little fist from my hand. "He does."

I must have said the wrong words, because Dis' face fell. She tucked the child back into the basket and turned to Balin.

"Thank you for watching them. I know Fíli is becoming quite the handful."

The older dwarf beamed, "It was no trouble, Dis. You have a bright boy, there. It's always a pleasure to amuse him."

Fíli had hopped back onto the cart, and was talking to his brother. They seemed to be having a conversation, of sorts.

I cleared my throat. "There is a house for you, if you want it." Dis turned to me, stony eyed once again. We had built far fewer houses than the elders had wanted, but they were study and large. Once the mines were deep enough, we could build halls in the mountain itself. For now, we would have to make due with surface dwellings.

Fili carried the basket with his brother, although he was hardly big enough to manage, and we walked the short distance to the house. I had chosen the location—close enough to the town center to be well protected, but far enough away to give a sense of privacy and space—myself. The walls were half carefully fitted stone, half expertly cut log. The dwelling was sunk several feet into the ground, to keep it warmer in the winter. Best of all, the door hung straight on its hinges, and opened without a sound.

Dis stood outside, tears welling up in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I pulled her close, "Is something…"

She shook her head, pulling away and brushing a comforting hand over Fíli's shoulders. The boy seemed as confused as I was.

"It's perfect." She pressed her fingers against the stone, and the handle of the door, and the wooden frame. "It's beautiful."

I exchanged a look with her son, and he shrugged. "Look inside." My lips bent into a smile, and I nodded toward the door.

Fíli slipped inside ahead of his mother, carefully setting Kíli on the floor. The babe began to cry in protest, and Dis lifted him from the basket.

"There's rooms for everyone." Fíli danced around the house, banging open all the doors. "More than everyone!" He bounded across the main room, sticking his head into the chimney.

Dis moved more slowly, rocking the child in her arms. Kíli quieted as they walked.

"I didn't have time to make furniture." I explained, still standing in the doorway. I had no desire to ruin the little family's happiness with my presence.

Dis glanced back, "We've managed with less. I'm sure I can make some, if Balin is willing to watch the boys for me."

I shifted, torn between staying to talk with my sister and my desire to return to the mines. I caught sight of a familiar blond head out of the corner of my eye, and turned to ask of his leave to go, but it was only Fíli.

"Thorin." Dis called me gently, and I started when I realized that she had somehow approached within a foot of where I was standing. "Go, if you have to. There will be time later."

I nodded thankfully, and shut the door behind me. I did not run to the mines, though it would have been a small comfort. In the darkness and the dust I leaned against the stone, feeling the thunder of the picks in my chest. No one was there to see my tears, or hear my sobs over the sound of hammers. I braced my hands against my thighs and wept for the pain that I had caused, and the family that I had lost. Then I took up my tools and broke stones until my arms, not my heart, ached from the strain.

"Thorin!" Dwalin's rough voice called down from the main chamber. "It's time to stop for the night."

I squinted in the light of the candle that he held, and coughed. Then I made the mistake of rubbing my eyes. Rather than helping, more dust fell into them. I blinked rapidly as I followed the big dwarf into the evening air. We walked back through the patch of woods, where I kept my eyes from wandering to the familiar shape an old oak tree, and into the town proper.

Workers were gathering in the square for the evening meal, and chatting to those who had just arrived. The mood was almost festive, mostly because of a few dozen extra torches that had been lit. The warm light softened the hard edges and hid raggedness that lingered in my people's eyes.

Dwalin and I joined the line for food, and made polite conversation with Bomber as he filled our bowls with some sort of thick stew. There were slices of dense, brown bread as well—probably the last of the store that the newcomers had brought with them. I followed Dwalin to a mostly empty bench, near a fire, and we ate in companionable silence.

It had been easiest to cook communal meals since we had arrived. There was an abundance of game in the woods, and the hunting expeditions were nearly always successful. We had been focused on making enough space for people to live—building two story bunkhouses for ourselves—and had little time to cook separately. Even with the work that we had done, nearly half of us would have to live in tents, probably through the summer.

"Do you think we should start on the wall tomorrow?" Dwalin asked through a mouthful of bread.

I swirled the stew with my spoon, "If we start on the north side, near the mine. People will need a few days to decided where to build their homes, and we haven't done anything about the livestock."

Dwalin and I had spoken, at length, about what should be inside the walled portion of Ered Luin. The old goblin tunnels had opened between two arms of the mountains, so the valley was protected on three sides. The mine was at the northern end, separated from the town by a small rock fall. It would not be difficult to use those rocks to start a wall, now that the more skilled masons had arrived. The only difficulty was deciding how far the wall should arc away from the mountain.

The livestock presented a problem that we had not considered. We had felled trees along the course of where we thought the wall should go. That plan did not take into account how much livestock had arrived with the rest of the dwarves, and I did not want such a valuable source of food outside the city. Wolves and other, less pleasant, creatures roamed the woods. It was not wise to leave anything valuable unprotected.

"How many do you think we'll lose tonight?" Dwalin rubbed his hand over his balding scalp.

I pushed the bowl away, "With any luck, less than a dozen. These wolves may not have a taste for sheep."

The older dwarf gestured at my untouched bowl. "Are you going to eat that?"

I pushed it toward him, but took the bread, and made my way to the barracks. We had pushed the cots closer together to fit as many people into the building as possible, and the space was uncomfortably crowded. I crept through the maze of tangled limbs on the floor, and packed my few remaining possessions.

There was a matronly looking dwarrow nearby, looking for a place to lie down.

"Take my bed." I gestured to the pallet of straw.

At first she protested, and then her eyes lit up with recognition. "My prince." She curtsied. "I could not possibly take your bed. It is far to much for a poor old woman like me."

"Take it. I will be more comfortable outside in any case." I pressed her toward the space, trying my best to be courteous and friendly.

She bowed her head, "I supposed, if you insist, but only for tonight." She curtsied again, and began to spread her ragged blanket on the pallet.

I slipped back through the sleeping forms, and across the courtyard. We'd built forges here, far better than the old settlement. I took the steps down two at a time, before anyone could ask what I was doing, and slipped inside. The building was spacious, and warm in the cool springtime night. I descended more steps, comforted by the press of stone around me, and made my way to the back of the space.

The smithing fires were separated by thick stone walls, and broad chimneys rose from each. The crafting areas were neat, gray stone. Some were already darkened from iron filings and smoke, but most looked the same as when they had been built. Dwalin had planned the forges, and labored without sleeping for quite some time to see them built. They were not the majestic rooms of Erebor, but they were functional.

I moved to one of the storage rooms in the back of the building, and spread my cloak over a stack of empty crates. Starlight poured in through a vent at the top of the wall, and fresh air with it. The wall at my back was pleasantly warm, and soon I fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Spring passed soon into summer, and the town sprouted up around the base of the mountain. The mines deepened, bringing up iron and copper and the occasional bit of silver or gold. We did not craft beautiful things, during that time. I worked to make hammers and nails, to repair the bent and broken blades of shovels, to shape farm equipment and furniture.

The colors of autumn touched the tops of the trees before the forges grew quiet again. I had fallen into the habit of waking before dawn, and searching out a meal. Then I would return to the forge and work into the night, until I hammer-blows began to fall astray, then I could sleep. I had lost track of the days, in my own private world of fire and metal. It was better that way.

The simple routine, and the simple work, slowed my mind. I did not dream of the old halls of my people, or think of a time when we had been prosperous and happy. Nor did I remember the pain of the last few years. I worked metal and shaped stone. I carved wood into easy, functional shapes. I did not need to think, or dream, or lead, when I stood pumping a bellows.

"Thorin?" A familiar voice stopped my usual march to the dining hall, and I turned. Perhaps the chairs I had built yesterday had not been well made. I had been tired when I was finishing them, and should have stopped soon that I did.

It was not the dwarrow I was expecting, but my sister who had called my name. I thought about continuing on my way, but she had seen me turn and that would have been rude.

"Dis." I had to clear my throat after the word. Had it really been such a long time since I had spoken.

Dis smiled, tucking a wayward strand of raven hair behind her ear. "I haven't seen you in months!" She exclaimed, happily, and wrapped me in a tight hug. Then she quickly stepped away, her nose wrinkled, and wiped the dust off the front of her dress. "Have you forgotten how to bathe?"

I looked down at my clothes—the same ones that I had arrived in. They were gray with iron filings and dust, and poorly mended in more than one place.

"No." I ran my fingers over the edge of the tunic, and gave my trousers a cursory brushing.

Dis narrowed her eyes, taking a step closer. "Have you been eating? You look thin."

"Yes." I refused to meet her gaze. The streets would be busy soon, and I wanted to be back to the forges before then.

"Thorin." Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she gave one of my braids a tug. "Look at me."

I flicked my eyes to hers, and glanced quickly away. She sighed, releasing my hair.

"Is this about Fro-"

"No." I snapped, scraping some of the dirt out from under my fingernails.

Dis almost stamped her foot, like she had done when we were children, but caught herself. "Will you walk with me then? I need help carrying some things for the boys."

"Dis," I was growing frustrated with her attention, "I have work to do."

She rolled her eyes. My little sister actually rolled her eyes, at _me._ "You have had plenty of time to _work_. You spent all summer _working_." She shoved her basket into my chest, and let go. I was forced to hold on to it, lest it fall to the ground. "Now you are going to come to the market with me." She gave me a sideways look, "And then you are going to have a bath."

I looked forlornly back at the mess hall as Dis stalked away, but reluctantly followed my sister. No doubt she would force me, if I did not go by my own will. There was far too much of our mother's fire in her. I ambled listlessly behind her, ignoring the curious looks of the dwarves and dwarrows tending the stalls. Dis filled the basket with fresh produce, and moved on to one of the small shops that were finished.

"Good morning Dis." Dori called from somewhere in gloom. The windows had not been fitted with glass, since we did not have access to the proper sand, and were covered with planks of wood.

"Dori." Dis rummaged in the basket for a particularly choice tomato. I leaned against the doorframe. "I found this at the market today, and I thought you might like it. You do love tomatoes so." She placed the fruit carefully on the counter, and the neatly dressed dwarf bustled over.

"That's not the only reason you came, I think." He sniffed the fruit appreciatively, and caught sight of me. "By my beard, is that Thorin?"

I could not think of a response, so I nodded.

"We'd thought that you'd vanished, it's been so long since we've seen you." He laughed in delight. "It wouldn't do to misplace another one of you Durins, now would it?"

Dis shook her head, quietly, and Dori gave an apologetic cough. "I seem to have overstepped myself."

I waved a dismissive hand, examining the cloth in an attempt to keep my mind from traveling down those particularly dark roads. There was a bolt of blue, and one of green, nearby. The weave was rough but sturdy, the wool of a high quality. It seemed that the sheep were doing well. I would have to ask Dwalin about them, if I saw him. He came to the forges when he had the chance.

"The boys have outgrown all their tunics again, I'm afraid." Dis began before the awkwardness had a chance to linger. "And my brother seems to have forgotten that he is, in fact, a prince."

I glowered at the insult, but it was no trouble to hold my tongue. Even in the dim light, my clothes looked horribly shabby. I was very aware of an unpatched hole on the breast of my tunic, which I had been meaning to mend.

"He does seem to be trying to turn himself into a clump of dirt, doesn't he." Dori approached, but did not come any nearer than an arm's length. "Have your measurements changed, lad? There seems to be a lull in the work today, I could have something ready by lunch time."

Dis took charge once again, describing the changes that would have to be made for her boys and presenting Dori with their old clothing. The tailor took everything in stride, laughing and asking after the children, and commenting on the best techniques for darning socks.

I grew bored, and did not want to moved farther into the shop and risk covering Dori's ware with filth, so I stood outside in the sun. The market was growing crowded with shoppers. The change in my people was startling, after such a short time. They were no longer starving and ragged, with bowed heads and dim eyes. They strolled about, chattering and laughing, dressed in the practical clothing of craftsmen and miners. Several children raced about, playing some sort of chasing game. The sun glittered off of the first of the hard squash, and danced about the butcher's stall—filled near to overflowing with fresh meat.

"They're happy." Dis said, making me jump. "This place is a paradise for them."

"They live in hovels, and scratch in the dirt." I retorted. "This is no paradise."

Dis clamped her hand on my arm, hard enough that I tried to pull away. "The only reason that anyone has to be less than happy is that their leader—their prince—hides away and mopes."

"I do not mope." I snarled, jerking away. "And if I am such a blight on this paradise of your, perhaps I should leave." I stalked away, glad that people stepped out of my path with nervous expressions. I did not want their thanks or their pity.

I had nearly made it to the forge when Dis caught me. She took hold of my arm again, though this time more gently.

"Forgive me, Thorin?" She seemed so small and young in that moment, her basket to large for her arms. Her shoulders bowed with all the responsibility that had been set upon her.

I took a deep breath. "It is I who should be asking for forgiveness. I have acted poorly for these past few months."

"You had every reason to want to be left alone." Dis patted my arm, somewhat awkwardly.

I took her hand, folding my briefly around it. "You did, as well. But you did not hide."

She shrugged. "I had the children to think of, and to distract me." She tugged at my hands, "And I must return to them. Will you come with me?"

I followed her back down the streets to her home, and it was truly a home now. The door had been painted a dark blue, and flowers lined the path. Small toys and the other leaving of childhood were scattered in the long grass, waiting for the children to pick them up again.

Fíli darted out the door as we approached. "Mama! Kíli's not listening to me."

He seemed distraught, though I did not know how a dwarfling—less than a year old—could manage to be disobedient.

Dis pushed the basket back into my arms, and was dragged inside by her eldest. I followed along, more slowly. When I entered the house, Dis was already holding her baby. Kíli was red faced and waving his arms angrily. He shrieked when he saw his brother, obviously enraged about something.

"What is this about?" Dis asked her elder son.

Fíli shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know. He just started doing that."

I snorted, despite myself. I had been far too respectable to use that particular excuse, but Dis had quite often. My sister glared at me, and I took that as a signal to leave her to her work.

The kitchen was tidy, and Dis had built furniture for the space over the summer. I left the basket on the table, and pushed open the back door. The house was on a small hill, overlooking the little stand of woods that had been left inside the wall. I did not search those trees too hard, for fear of what I might see, but sat on the slope and watched the clouds roll across the sky.

"Fíli." Dis said sternly, in much the same tone she had used on me earlier. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" There was an edge of panic in the boy's voice. "He just started yelling."

"Do I need to ask Kíli what you did?" As the sound of his name, the younger began to screech again.

"He won't say anything." Fíli muttered, rebellious.

"You know that I will find out, don't you." Dis cautioned, switching tactics.

There was a long pause, where a cloud covered the sun. I folded my arms behind my head, and hoped that it would move soon.

"I had a sweet." Fíli finally answered. His voice was quiet, and still held a note of indignant anger. "Balin gave it to me when we went to visit yesterday. Kíli wanted it, but there was only one, and I ate it. And then he started doing that." The explanation picked up speed as it continued, until Fíli seemed about to cry. "Mama, please don't send me to my room. I want to see uncle Thorin." The boy pleaded, desperately, all traces of anger gone from his voice.

Dis sighed, quieting her little one, "I do not see that you've done anything wrong, love."

"Does that mea-"

"Hush, I'm not finished." Dis interrupted. "You have to remember that your brother is still small. He cannot ask for things like you can, and little hurts seem very large. You must be gentle with him, and kind."

"But I am!" Fíli whined. "I only said that he couldn't have any of my sweet! I didn't _do_ anything to him."

"How would you feel, if you were Kíli?" Dis asked, very gently. "Do you think you would be upset, if you could not ask properly? What if I were to have a sweet, and not share it with you?"

Fíli was quiet. "But I never get sweets." He informed his mother, "And Balin gave it to _me_. He didn't give one to Kíli."

"I now, sweetling, but that does not change the Kíli was upset." There was some shuffleing, and Kíli began to cry again, though far more softly. "Why don't you go play with him, and see if you can cheer him up?"

Fíli said something at that, but it was to quiet for me to here. Then Dis moved into the kitchen.

"You can come inside now." She called, laughing, "The mean mother has left, for the time being."

I rolled to my feet and watched her unpack the basket. She moved with surety in the kitchen, familiar with the cabinets and nooks. It did not take long, though she was careful to keep everything out of the reach of dwarfling's fingers.

"I'll show you to the bath." She brushed her hands on the front of her dress, a leftover gesture from her childhood, and led me to the washroom.

I knew the way, since I had helped built her house, and couldn't help the excitement that I felt. When we had planned the town, Dwalin and I had run pipes from a well up the mountain. They ran under the forges, where the heat of the fires warmed the water, and into the nearby houses. Dis was one of the lucky few to have hot water, without needing to boil it over a fire. I congratulated myself on my ingenuity, though I had not thought of the idea. All of Erebor had pipes of heated water. There were even rumors that sections had been supplied with a convenient source of ale, in the same way, though I had found no proof of that.

Dis ran the taps, and as the bath filled she brought me a clean set of clothes. I recognized them as my own, from long ago. I had grown since we had fled Erebor, and Dis knew that, but they would fit well enough. I moved to take the tunic and pants, but she knocked my hand away.

"You are filthy. Bathe first, and then you can touch these. I have not save them for all these years, just to see them ruined by your thoughtlessness."

She left again, closing the door, and I sank into the warm water. It was not quite as hot as I liked, but it was a good deal better than nothing. Once the grime of the forges was cleaned away, I felt more cheerful. Perhaps it was easier to be optimistic when one was not living in their own filth.


End file.
